Walk Through Her Garden
by Yu-tan
Summary: Perspectives on the life of one Aoyagi Misaki. Mother, monster, fallible and weak. Look through the eyes of six people who all see her, but will never understand her despair.


I.

_An adolescent girl, standing outside in the rain as cars rush by, her dark hair cut in ragged chunks. Barefoot and alone, she feels like there is no one left in the world to love her._

_"I would never treat my own kid like this," she says bitterly, to no one in particular._

--

Dear Diary.

Seimei came home today! I couldn't believe it. He came home, finally, now someone can stop me from hurting him… and now he's gone again, and I feel terribly sick. Where are my sons?

05 _Akame Nisei_

Aoyagi Misaki? I don't really have an opinion on her, besides what Beloved told me. But after I went to her house under orders, I think she is pretty pathetic. The way she held onto my shoulders, her thin body collapsing. However, what really struck me were her eyes. They were dead like a corpse, until she saw me (Seimei) and suddenly were filled with a hardness and determination that really made me believe mothers could lift cars and kill bears for their children and the like.

Despite that gaze, I had to keep myself from laughing. How easily she saw what she wanted to, how easily she succumbed to her own delusions. She was just another weak-willed, impressionable human. I'm glad Seimei isn't like that- if he didn't like his reality he'd change it himself.

So, maybe I was a little contemptuous of this frail woman hanging onto the dregs of her sanity. It didn't help that it was extremely frustrating to try and get her to kill the younger Aoyagi. Here I was, her beloved son, and she couldn't think of anything more imaginative than chasing the kid off. Was she uncreative, or just plain stupid? It didn't seem to be going anywhere, so I gave her the pills like Beloved said and left.

When I mentioned all of this in my report, I was sure I'd get punished for being crass, but Beloved didn't seem to care until I mentioned Misaki refused.

--

Dear Diary

Sometimes I hear someone else in the house. He tells me it's just my paranoia, but I hear it. Footsteps, voices, an extra key turning in the lock… and then I shout "Seimei!?" into the darkness I'm afraid to go into, and am always disappointed.

But that doesn't mean someone else isn't there.

I was standing outside of his bedroom door, and I swear I could hear two voices. The words were too indistinct, but I was positive my Ritsuka was in there. Who else could be in his room? But when I banged on the door to tell Ritsuka to let me in, he opened the door and told me there wasn't anyone else there.

04 _Agatsuma Soubi_

Ritsuka's mother? Her behavior and motives make her pitiable… after all, she had her ten year old son come back one day with no recollection of his life, including her, and then two years later her eldest was brutally murdered. And no one ever thought to tell her anything. It's ironic Ritsuka gets all up in arms when I fail to report something (out of a need to protect him, obviously) when he does the very same thing to his mother. Something about love makes us secretive, it seems.

Despite that, she is still unforgivable as a person. Ritsuka has to suffer the abuse, but I have to watch him treat the results, always by himself, wincing or cringing at the sting of peroxide. It's torturous. Time and time again I offer to help- it would not be a big issue, to overpower her and give Ritsuka a break. But always he insists I do not touch her.

Of course I obey.

But I find other, more subtle ways to express my frustration. Walking a little too loudly on the floor upstairs, or shutting a door harder than I normally would… Ritsuka doesn't notice, but she does. And occasionally I get a glimpse of those eyes half hidden by dark hair, and internally recoil at the resemblance to her sons. I see the intensity that belonged to Seimei and the overwhelming sadness that is also in the eyes of her youngest.

Ah, Ritsuka is back. Besides being soaking wet, he seems relatively OK tonight. Well, there are remnants of food stuck in his hair- it's not difficult to infer what set her off tonight. He does not scowl or cry, but only sighs, offering no protests tonight as I follow him to the bathroom.

A masochist, or an angel? I am inclined to consider the latter tonight as he sits in the clean white tub, damp dark hair framing that pale, solemn face. He could have been one of Michelangelo's seraphim, serious and ethereal, until he turned to smile softly at me.

Who is the one being reassured here? I can't tell anymore. All I wanted was to free him of the cycle, yet I only seem to be drawn into it.

How did Seimei do it?

--

Dear Diary,

Why can't I stop myself?! I feel so tired, my arms ache after taking it out on my own son.

No, that's not Ritsuka.

But where is Ritsuka then?! He must be inside somewhere, like an egg. But eggs are easy to break, but the thing is I don't know what is inside an egg until I open it.

Come to think of it, Ritsuka was born from an egg. A beautiful Ritsuka egg, I could feel it…Growing and growing and then I had a beautiful Ritsuka boy. The way he looked at me, even at that age, anyone could tell he was my son.

And now? He comes home and hugs me or says these things I can't listen to and I look into those eyes and just see a broken eggshell, shattered and picked clean.

03 _Aoyagi Ritsuka_

Mother? She's been okay, but lately it feels like she's growing more and more paranoid. Though I can't blame her, living with a stranger who looks like her son. But its ironic, she's technically a stranger too. I don't remember how she treated me when I was little, or what kind of kid I was. But she's undoubtedly Ritsuka's mother.

I get headaches sometimes, thinking of this, so I try not to. Katsuko-sensei told me I need to come to terms with my own identity and acknowledge that I am the only Ritsuka, but I would rather just do what I can to keep her safe. If she continues to think the real Ritsuka is inside me, she won't try to look for him somewhere else, which might put her in danger. It gets a bit difficult to bear, but it's ok.

She made chestnut rice tonight. I went downstairs as quietly as I could since Soubi wasn't here yet. I don't really like the woody scent of chestnut, but Ritsuka did. Mother was sitting at the kitchen table, head buried in her arms. My fingers brushed her shoulders before she draw away sharply as if she had been burned. Seimei and Soubi had both told me the same thing: Don't provoke her.

I can't help it.

"Who are you? What do you think you're doing, looking like my son?! Go away!"

All things I have heard before. All I can do is sit down quietly, take the plate of rice and not make eye contact… Ouch. I didn't expect her plate. It grazed me, but a lot of rice got in my hair. She's shouting again, but I can't hear the words right. There's this deafening roar in my ears… I think it's water- I must be in the bathroom. Her hands clench my hair as the cold spray stings my eyes.

She's just washing out the rice in my hair. As long as I think of it that way, I'm able to sit still until she tires. Before it would go on until Seimei intervened, but that's no longer possible. I know it's a terrible thought, but it's always moments like these when I wish her Ritsuka never returns.

Then she starts crying, and I wish her Ritsuka did come back so she won't cry.

--

Dear Diary,

I don't know what I would do without Seimei. He is the voice that I should have in my head, to tell me to stop, stop hurting that boy who he insists is Ritsuka, but he can't be if he doesn't even recognize me. His own mother! He can't be my Ritsuka.

I hate going in circles. As long as Seimei is here, he can protect him from me.

Why did it have to be Ritsuka? Ritsuka was mine… Parents aren't supposed to have favorites, but Seimei always belonged to himself. But I can't bear this other Ritsuka who won't smile at me, or acknowledge he is mine.

Who took Ritsuka from me? I'll kill whoever is responsible.

02 _Aoyagi Seimei_

My 'mother'? She's a textbook example of an abusive parent with a side of delusional tendencies, making her a rather inconvenient figure in my life. Even worse for Ritsuka, who has to bear the majority of her ill gotten wrath. Her grandest delusion is that Ritsuka is still hers. Years ago she could claim a part of him while he clung to her skirt like a shy kitten, but no longer.

He was born for me.

And now, even bruised and battered he has not changed a single bit, despite his mother's ranting and raving. That child's brightness she remembers has only been condensed and focused to shine only for one person.

I come home to a familiar scene. Food is scattered everywhere, father nowhere to be seen, the erratic sound of books being flung haphazardly coming from the living room. I make my way there, hearing glass shatter as a book hit a vase, a few thuds as books fell short of their mark, and the dull thump of hardcover against flesh, and a barely audible whimper. Ritsuka is cowering by the staircase, curled up into as small a target as he could make.

I tell her to stop. The next book glances off my shoulder blade as I bend down to pick him up, meeting her gaze with indifference. There are the usual excuses, but the inferno blazing behind those maddened eyes can't lie. She knows she has lost, but she refuses to surrender. I know I have won by the way those utterly trusting eyes look up at me, his cheek marred with a scratch that still bled.

I tell him he should run away when she gets like that. He doesn't answer. I ask him why he doesn't run away. I know this answer. He would bear any amount of pain and abuse as long as it meant I would come for him in the end, to take him upstairs and treat his wounds and smile comfortingly.

And his mother knows it. Perhaps that's why she strikes at the most inopportune moments, to get me to force my hand and fail him once, just once so that he will lose confidence in me and love me a little less.

However, that is impossible because Ritsuka would never stop loving _me_, not the other way around.

And that's all there is to it.

--

Dear Diary,

Ritsuka disappeared today. I don't understand… since last week it's just been a flurry of doctors and hospitals, tears and blank stares. The hospital told us it's amnesia, and that there is a chance he will regain all his memories…

Where is my son?!

That boy Seimei brought back is not Ritsuka, not my Ritsuka. But who are they going to believe: The hospital or a mother's intuition?

They are all wrong.

--

01 _Aoyagi Misaki_

I was cleaning today, and forgot why I started cleaning, and who I was cleaning for halfway through. But I did find my old diary, the one I kept since Seimei was conceived. Reading those old dusty thoughts… I didn't recognize them. Her thoughts and words don't sound like me at all. A horrible thought struck me- where did Misaki go? Who am I?

A lot of people would assume I only lost one son, my eldest. But little do they know… I lost my youngest, Ritsuka, then Seimei, and then myself. Maybe 'Misaki' disappeared before either of them.

These thoughts bring the unpleasant crawling feeling beneath my skin, so I sit down, shaking fingers twisting open the bottle full of little white tablets, scattered relief that never runs out. They don't do anything for my mood, but at least they mutes things- colors, sounds, feelings. I curl up on the couch without replacing the top of the bottle, the vacuum still plugged in, too sleepy to move. I make a note to myself to wake up before his curfew, so I can prepare dinner.

But what am I going to make?

There is no answer except the quiet ticking of the living room clock; seconds slip by and so do my thoughts. It has become harder to concentrate lately, but easier to sleep. Sleep is always such a temptation lately, with the lure of having my sons back when I wake up.

The phone rings. I don't move to pick it up, so soon enough the automated voice of six year old Ritsuka plays. Whether I didn't know how to change it, or I didn't want to lose that scrap of my youngest son, the same message still plays.

"This is the Aoyagi residence. Please leave a message and we'll call you right back!"

"Hi Mother. It's me. I'll be home by curfew tonight, but I already ate with friends so don't worry about dinner, just make yourself something. See you soon,"

I sighed, closing my eyes, letting sleep take over.

"See you soon, Ritsuka…"

--

December 31, 19XX

Dear Diary,

Today we brought Ritsuka home from the hospital. It's so good to be home, and Ritsuka is doing so well. Seimei is such a big help, and I know he'll make a great big brother. Ritsuka is such an excitable baby too. Already he's putting anything he can reach in his mouth.

I finally feel as if I have all the pieces of myself gathered together once, everything is so clear.

-Aoyagi Misaki, mother of two


End file.
